Intolerance of Error
by gidget89
Summary: Hypothesis: We can prove definitively the existence of romantic love existing between the subject A: Cal Lightman and subject B: Gillian Foster.


**A/N**: Just so you know, I reccomend reading this one over at my livejournal,here because there are some ~visual aides to be had, and you kinda lose out not having them. Just a suggestion. Feel free to stay here, go there, review wherever - I'm easy ;) Also the e-mail section is formatted better over there. If the link doesn't show up - just go to my profile and you'll find one :)

_**Intolerance of Error**_

"The overall theme of this unit is that psychology is empirical – it does not deal in generalities or averages, its goal is to study the larger population empirically before attempting to enumerate _every _possible deviation from the norm."

Emily yawned as her professor began his lecture, and she tapped her fingers impatiently against the casing of her laptop, open to her Word program, its cursor blinking blankly at her while the professors voice droned on about the overview.

It wasn't like she wasn't recording the lecture anyway. And she had more import things to be thinking about. Her father, for one thing.

Being the daughter of a world-renowned psychologist who could read the slightest expression that crossed your face meant a lot of different things.

It meant she could never tell a lie and have him not know about it while growing up. Oh she'd told plenty of lies that her Dad had _allowed_ her to get away with – due mostly to Gill's influence and guidance, Emily had _no_ doubt – but he always knew when she was lying, even if he never knew quite _why_.

It meant that as a child she'd copied everything her Dad did, including his more unnerving mannerisms like studying people's faces more than their words. She could read _him_ like a book – and in her opinion, she could read other people pretty well too.

It meant that she'd _hated_ bringing boyfriends home. At least until _after_ the break ups, at which point she relished the memories of her Dad's interrogations with bitter glee.

It meant that she'd been the mediator between her parents before she even knew what one _was_.

It also meant that when she announced her intention to obtain her psychology doctorate in university (something she'd purposely only revealed the weekend before she left for college, when courses were registered and it was all too late to change anything without paying a penalty) she was met with shock and anger. Her Dad was shocked – absolutely did not want her 'doing what I do, Em', to which she calmly pointed out that she'd read his books, and spent more time in his office than his home over the last ten years. She _already_ knew his science. Now she just... wanted to learn the _rest_. The _hows_ and the _whys_ of it all. What _made_ people lie so much. What made them _do _the things that they did?

Her mother had been purely, blindly _angry_ about the whole thing. Emily understood it, in a way. Her mother saw her choice in career as choosing her Dad over her. If she'd picked a neutral career path – it probably would have been better. But she'd been fascinated by her father's work for far too long to settle for some less worthy profession now.

And she wanted to _help_ people. And sure, there were lots of ways and means of doing that, but she wanted to help them understand themselves, and she thought that that part was what made her choose _this_ way.

There'd been a massive argument between her and her parents over dinner, which devolved into a massive argument between her Mom and her Dad, which had led to Emily just leaving and driving to Gillian's. It'd taken them almost an hour and a half to follow her. She'd like to believe that was because they were giving her some time, but she knew it was actually more likely because they hadn't stopped yelling to notice her missing.

Gill had known all along – she'd gone to her for help planning her course load – what classes to take and what she'd need to be prepared to do. She'd also sworn Gillian to secrecy, and of course Gillian had kept that promise.

Afterward, after all the yelling had finally finished, she'd explained things to her parents, sitting on Gill's couch (which her mother _hated_, she knew. And her father secretly _loved_.) – it wasn't their choice. It was hers. And she had no current plans to become even remotely the psychologist her father was. She was more interested in applied psychology than clinical.

Eventually they relented, because what could they do about it anyway? She'd started her university career with a bounce in her step and an attitude that she could conquer the world.

The first year of school had been a surprise. And the second even more so.

She'd actually expected to be far more interested in her psychology courses than she actually was. The first month was spent study terminology and the history – people who had discovered this school of thought or that one. She'd been unerringly cheerful and optimistic when visiting her parents on the weekends, and only venting her frustration in the privacy of Gillian's office.

"Half these people are dead, and at no point is it going to be important for me to know who founded a school of thought that nobody even _ascribes _to any more, Gill!" Her tone was borderline whine and she knew it, as she slouched in the corner of the sofa in Gill's office. Gill simply smiled, setting her folder down and moving across the office to settle in next to her.

"Think of it like a marriage, Em. A career is a life-long commitment – would you marry someone and not know their history?"

Emily rolled her eyes and sighed gustily, "Dunno, is their history _hundreds_ of years long and boring as hell? I just don't give a crap about William Wundt, or whatever."

"Hey!" Gillian's eyes sparkled as she waved a hand toward her bookshelf. "I have three books by that man right up there. And if he hadn't asked the questions he did – you wouldn't have a science to study. It'll get more interesting as you go along, I promise. There's never anything exciting about laying the foundation – but you need one, and walls and floor before you can get to the fun of decorating."

"What are you, metaphorical Gill today? Hmmm?" They laughed and Emily sat up straighter. "Fine. I'll stop complaining."

"Mmmhmm. Out _loud_ anyway, right?"

"It's just so _boring_, Gillian!" The tone was back and Gillian shook her head.

"Try to find a way to apply it to your life today – it's a good learning tool. Make the boring stuff more practically applicable, and you'll remember it more easily."

"Wundt is never gonna be practically applicable, neither is B.F Skinner, or Watson, or Hebb." Emily waved a hand before looking across at her friend and sighing. "But I guess I'll give it a go. Hey – don't tell-"

"Emily, you know I wouldn't bring anything you say to me to your father." Gillian's hand was on her shoulder, squeezing in reassurance and Emily smiled slightly.

"Oh, I think it depends on the circumstances. But no, not in this instance, you wouldn't. Thanks for that, Gill. You're a good friend." She'd hugged her impulsively, gripping her tighter than strictly necessary because, well, if anyone in life _deserved_ hugs it was Gillian Foster. And she probably got way less than she should. Emily held tighter for five more seconds, whispering a quick 'love ya' along with the kiss she pressed to the older woman's cheek. She pretended not to notice the tears that sprang into Gillian's eyes, and walked to her father's office, vowing to _always_ hug and kiss Gill hello and goodbye from then on. She loved her, and she should show that more often – just how much she appreciated everything Gillian did for her.

Something her father could certainly work on.

Emily wasn't sure when exactly she'd decided that Gillian and her Dad were like, _meant to be_ or whatever. She knows it wasn't long after her own parents divorce. And she knew that Gill was still married to Alec then.

Watching her Dad getting more and more reckless, she'd wished more than once that Gillian just _wasn't_ married – because- because in her teenage mind, they could be in love and be together and everything would be fixed. Gillian made her Dad smile. Gillian made him calm. She saw the way his gaze lingered on Gill more than anyone else.

The night her father told her about Gillian's divorce she'd cried herself to sleep. She felt _horrible_ and guilty and partly responsible. But in typical teenage fashion, she'd gotten over it quickly. And started planning.

Or not planning per se, because obviously Gillian needed _time_ and she was _sure_ that she would be spending weekends with her dad _and_ Gill before a year was out.

That didn't happen.

And she'd tried. Subtly, she'd tried. She'd said things to Gill, said things to her Dad. They both remained completely and utterly obtuse about the whole thing. Only one of three things could possible explain this. One, they weren't in love with each other. This, she dismissed out of hand, because it was _so_ obvious, it all but smacked you in the face when you spent time with them. The not at all covert way her Dad checked Gill out? So not what you do with people you aren't attracted to. And sure, he could be _just_ attracted, but she'd watched her Dad watching Gill for far too long to even _believe _that for a second. Not to mention the soft look Gill got whenever you even brought up her Dad. Which she did. Often.

Option two, and this was the one she liked best, was that they were just both incredibly blind idiots who couldn't see what _everyone_ else around them saw – which was that they were perfect for each other. And always had been completely and totally in love – so in love it apparently made them _stupid_.

And of course, the most depressing option three was that they both knew and were somehow choosing to _not_ be together. That option just made her want to curl into a ball and cry for her father, so she dismissed that one too_. So_ not plausible.

But if they were both too blind to see it, how could she _show_ them? Subtlety hadn't worked. Hinting and nudging and even outright suggestive language hadn't helped. Jealousy hadn't helped – though both of them certainly experienced it enough whenever there was a third party floating around on the peripheral of their lives. None of those third parties ever lasted though, they were always transient. More so in her Dad's case than in Gillian's. Emily fully believed Gillian could and would find a man who found her to be the utterly divine woman she was, and snatch her up.

Her Dad was running against a clock he didn't even know _existed_.

"The scientific approach offers two major advantages. The first is clarity and precision. The scientific approach requires that researchers specify _exactly_ what they are talking about when they formulate hypothesis. This clarity and precision enhances communication about important ideas."

The professors change of tone caught Emily's attention and she sat up with a frown, glancing around at her classmates – some diligently taking notes, clicking away on their computers, others were letting their recording device do the work for them, and a few were even still asleep. _Nobody_ was a fan of eight AM classes. Well, nobody _sane_.

"The second advantage is its intolerance of error. Scientists are _trained_ to be sceptical. They subject their ideas to empirical tests. They scrutinize one another's findings with a critical eye. They demand objective data and thorough documentation before they even begin to _accept_ ideas." Her professor paused, clicking his mouse and bringing up a document on the smart board behind him. "Now let's talk about the five steps in the scientific method..."

Emily's eyes flashed and she sat even straighter, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she began to take notes in earnest.

Find a way to apply her course work to her life today. _You are brilliant, Gillian_.

And Emily was _so_ going to get the two of them together.

* * *

"Psst! Loker. Come here!" Emily ducked into the foyer, beckoning Loker closer. He walked toward her with a confused expression.

"Why are you whispering?"

"Shhhhhhhh!" She hit his arm and he looked over his shoulder nervously.

"Are we in Spy vs Spy? Wait – who's the white Spy? Or are _we_ the white Spy? Makes sense – we all _know_ who the black spy'd be-"

"Ohmygod are you even for _real_?" She glared at him until he shut up. "I need to talk to you and Torres. Meet me outside for coffee in fifteen minutes okay? _Alone_."

"But Torres will be with me..." She glared at him one last time before ducking back through the doors and heading for the elevators.

Once she had a table procured, she wrapped her hands around her mug that was filled with hot chocolate, and tapped her feet nervously. Around ten minutes later she saw Torres and Loker making their way toward her. Eli deviated to the line up, dragging Torres with him. Once they'd ordered and received their coffees, they sat down in the two empty chairs across from her.

"So what's up with the cloak and dagger mini-Lightman?" Loker's question was blunt and Emily smiled in appreciation.

"I need your guys' help."

"Help with what?" Torres interrupted and Loker shot an irritated glance at her.

"Maybe if you gave her three seconds to explain, instead of cutting her off.."

"I didn't cut her off; I asked a simple _question_ Loker." Emily shook her head watching the two of them, rolling her eyes and clearing her throat.

"God, how did you two even manage to stop bitching long enough to have sex?"

"Alcohol."

"So very much alcohol."

"_Anyway_," she stressed, speaking over their twin glares, "I have an idea. More like a plan – really, it's a psychological experiment. And I need you guys to help me with it."

Loker was grinning already, but Torres shifted in her seat, leaning back. "I don't see how _I_ could help, Emily. I never even took a psychology course."

"Doesn't matter – listen. So the other day, right, Gillian was telling me to apply course crap practically. And then _yesterday_, we started studying the scientific method and _BAM_!" She smacked the table, sloshing her hot chocolate and making Loker jump slightly. "I got the _perfect_ idea for an experiment. So like, _hypothesis_, okay? Dad and Gillian are totally in love and somehow can't see it."

Loker and Torres nodded in agreement. "Oh totally."

"Yeah, absolutely."

"So, they're unwilling to accept the truth, right? So we have to _prove_ it to them. Using _science_!" She sat up, her eyes sparkling and Torres laughed softly, sipping her coffee.

"Yeah, but how?"

"Experiments." Loker spoke slowly, his eyes lighting up. "Right? We put them in situations that elicit responses that _prove_ they're in love with each other- and we document the whole thing!"

"Right, but first – we have to define the variables."

"And we need to write this down!" Loker was bouncing in his chair. "Did you bring your laptop, Em?"

"No! Way too easy for my Dad to hack into! We're doing it old school style!" She pulled the composite notebook out of her bag and threw a pen on the table. "You have to _hide_ these somewhere – you know what, you're not in charge of that Loker." She turned to Torres with a smile. "_You_ have to hide these, okay? Whatever happens – the subject cannot know about the experiment or it will compromise the whole thing."

"Alright," Loker already had the pen in hand and was scrawling in the notebook, "Hypothesis: We can prove definitively the existence of _romantic _love existing between the subject A: Cal Lightman and subject B: Gillian Foster."

"This is _so_ gonna get us fired." Torres muttered into her coffee.

* * *

_Experiment 1 – participants are observed in their natural setting, as unobtrusively as possible. Researchers are looking for heightened emotional response in the participants, including but not limited to – signs of sexual arousal (such as pupillary response, increased breathing rates, vasocongestion of the skin), mirroring body language, excessive touching (particularly of the face/neck region) and flirtatious behaviours._

"And this doesn't seem creepy to anyone else but me?" Torres stabbed a chopstick into her takeout container as she glanced from Loker to Emily and back again.

Emily shushed her, waving a hand behind her as she clicked through the video archive database. "Look, we need to observe them to establish baseline evidence of attraction. What seems less creepy, us watching archived video footage, or us creeping around the bushes outside of my Dad's house and watching them live and in person?"

"Well, when you put it that way," Torres sighed, leaning forward and propping her chin in her hand as she watched the interview footage in front of her.

"Besides, this way if Lightman comes in, we can just say we're helping Emily with a school project and we're actually watching the suspects, and not you know, him and Foster." Loker pointed out before pointing at his screen and rewinding the tape with a laughing. "Trucker check-out – look at that."

"Jesus, he's not even a _little_ bit subtle."

"Oh! Gillian flushed – mark that too Loker." Emily poked at his shoulder as she spoke, and she grinned while watching the screen in front of him. "You know, in any other family, this would be creepy. But in mine – it feels kinda like how we communicate. Damn, I'm messed up."

"Nah, just smart enough to know how stubborn they'll be about all of this." Loker waved his hand at the notebook and screen in front of him. "It seems extreme, but let's face it – that's kind of the level your Dad operates on 24/7."

"Yeah, I guess." She fidgeted with her sleeved before sighing and going back over to her own monitor. "I wish we had more than old interviews to go on. Dad records every damn thing in this place. We should have footage of them alone."

"Yeah but we don't have access to the security footage." Torres observed from her desk.

"Unless..." Loker's voice sounded thoughtful and he rolled his chair over to Emily's side. "How well do you think you know your Dad? Well enough to hack into his computer? Because I know I can access Foster's. I've done it before."

"And we do what – search their computers? What you think my Dad keeps footage of his greatest hits? Oh, _ew_, that came out wrong!" She gagged slightly at the thought, shuddering before looking over at Loker.

"You up for a little espionage?" Loker grinned and Emily nodded in agreement. "Torres?" Loker shot a glance over his shoulder at the other woman, who shook her head.

"I'm gonna keep going through this stuff, and keep a look out for the boss man." She waved them off in distraction and Emily frowned in her direction.

"Thanks, Ria." She smiled over at her, and was rewarded with a brief smile before Torres' gaze focused on the screen in front of her again. Emily shrugged before following Loker out of the video lab and heading down the hall toward Gillian's office.

When they entered, Loker tuned on a lamp and Emily wandered the office while he tapped away at the keyboard. "She didn't even change her password. Well, she did, but to something equally predictable." Loker was muttering from behind the desk and Emily wandered in front of the glass covered bookshelves. Gillian's whole office exuded a sense of calm and extreme comfort. It was soothing, much like the woman herself.

She picked up a plain black picture frame from the one shelf left open, tracing her finger along the glass. It was a yellow sheet of paper, still creased in places and she recognized her father's messy printing on it. _Bring this to me in 5 minutes and look grim_. She placed it back on the shelf with a frown – wondering about the story behind its being framed, and she made a mental note to 'notice' it and ask Gill the next time she visited.

She inhaled deeply, picking up the lingering scent of Gillian's perfume and she smiled softly to herself. Her earlier nerves seemed to settle and she moved to stand behind Loker as he was clicking rapidly through Gillian's files.

"She won't have anything personal on here, Loker – not like what you're looking for. Can you log into her e-mail?" She leaned over his shoulder, reading the screen in front of her as Loker clicked into Gillian's e-mail account.

"So not secure to have your computer remember your password."

"Eh, I do that too." Loker glanced over at her and she flushed. "Shit, probably shouldn't have _mentioned_ that." She looked at the received and deleted folders on Gillian's e-mail account. Both were nearly empty. "She's a deleter, ha. I am not surprised. Go into her sent file folder." Loker clicked the file and pages of e-mails came up.

"We don't have time to go through all these."

"No, just type my dad's address in the search box." Loker did as she asked and a bunch of correspondences popped up. "Select 'em all and print them. _I'll_ read through them this week on campus."

"Why can't _I_?" Loker's voice bordered a whine and Emily punched him in the shoulder, none too gently.

"Because, you have absolutely no sense of discretion. There may be things in there that you shouldn't know!"

"If I shouldn't know them, why should _you_?" Loker pointed out, hitting the print button that kicked the printer behind them into action before exiting the program and leaning back. She straightened, moving over to the printer and tapping the paper tray while she waited for the pages to print.

"Because I'm her _friend_. You're her employee. And I've known her longer!"

"Fine," Loker sighed heavily and Emily gathered the still warm sheets from the printer tray when the machine finally fell silent. "Now your Dad's office." He rubbed his hands together in glee and Emily shot a glare at him.

"I'll be going through that too."

"Oh, _come on_! Give me at least a little peek. Just a bit? My evaluation reports are in there I bet-"

"Shows what you know, Dad just signs those things. They'd be on Gill's desktop, not his." Emily strode past him, exiting back out into the hall, the sheaf of pages clutched in her hand and still smelling like fresh ink.

Entering her Dad's office, she didn't wander; she simply went straight to the computer and sat down in front of it, clicking the mouse to activate the screen. The password cursor flashed up at her and she bit her lip, trying her birthday first, then her Dads. Neither worked, so she put in her Grandmother's birthday. That was still a no and Emily frowned. She put in her middle name, her Dad's full name, their initials combined in several different ways. She tried initials and birth date combinations, finally tapping in Gillian's birth date and her own initials, and the computer granted her access with a small beep.

"Yes!" She did a small dance in the office chair, and Loker looked up at her from where he was standing in her Dad's study, looking around the room much the way she had done in Gillian's office. "Got it."

"Good. Anything good on there?"

Emily bit her lip, immediately navigating into the personal file folders, clicking on one marked 'porn'. "This so had better be what I think it is, and not _actual_ porn, Dad." She muttered under her breath and cursed when a second password lock appeared. This time she just typed Gillian's name, in full and access was granted. She knew her Dad would only be keeping one person out at this point – by labelling the file like it was, and making Gill's name the password – Gillian would never, ever look in a folder called 'porn'. Nor would she ever think that her own name would be the password.

The file opened up, and Emily clicked through it – some she recognized, pictures – the files of the brain scans her Dad had once shown her – he went for the tests yearly, apparently. She snapped to get Loker's attention. "I need like, a disc or a flash drive."

"How big?" Loker was already moving toward the doorway as he asked the question and Emily looked at the files contents.

"32 gig?"

"Jesus what does he have _on_ there?"

"That is for me to see and you to never find out." Emily pointed out with a grin, and Loker rolled his eyes before disappearing and reappearing, tossing a flash drive at her from the doorway. She stuck the usb stick into the port on the side of the monitor, and transferred the files quickly, glancing around nervously. Once the files were transferred, she pulled the stick out, and pocketed it before clicking through to the security program on her Dad's computer.

"We have to delete the last hour of footage, but make it look like an accident, or a glitch or something." Loker was across the room in two seconds flat, leaning past her and typing quickly.

"_That_ I can do." He grinned, and she looked around nervously, all of her previous misgivings returning in a rush.

Oh God, her Dad was gonna _kill_ her when he found all of this out.

She just had to make sure he had more reason to _thank_ her, rather then strangle her when he found out.

* * *

Her school work had suffered greatly this week – and it was all her Dad's and Gill's faults. She grimaced, glancing around the library even as she thought that. Sort of – it was her fault too.

She couldn't even write the time wasted off to research – though technically, that's what it was. But it was also just plain _fascinating_ reading. She'd been going through Gillian's sent e-mails, and highlighting the ones that were of interest. She twirled her pink highlighter in her hand as she turned the page, and her eyes lit up.

_From: G Foster  
_

_Sent: November 7__th__, 2007 15:23:07_

_To: C Lightman  
_

_Cal – I swear to God if you do not come out of your office right now, I am going to go in there to hose you down. –G._

_From: G Foster  
_

_Sent: November 7__th__, 2007 16:37:34_

_To: C Lightman  
_

_I know you're reading these e-mails Cal, I get that stupid read e-mail notification. -G. _

_From:G Foster  
_

_Sent: November 7__th__, 2007 18:04:22_

_To:C Lightman  
_

_I'm coming in and using my key. I may or may not beat the shit out of you. You missed five meetings today Cal, and I am not running this company alone. Nobody wants to deal with me since my name's not Lightman. You will get up, sober up, wash your god damned shirt, get a shower and show up to __**work**__ tomorrow. Get ready. – G._

_From: C Lightman  
_

_Sent: November 8__th__, 2007 10:42:21_

_To:G Foster  
_

_Foster – sorry about last night. I put a new shirt on. And am not drunk this morning. You put up with too much. _

_From: G Foster  
_

_Sent: November 8__th__, 2007 10:53:39_

_To:C Lightman  
_

_Not drunk yet you mean. What color is your shirt?_

_From:C Lightman  
_

_Sent: November 8__th__, 2007 10:59:51_

_To: G Foster  
_

_What colour is it? What kind of bloody question is that? I dunno – it's clean coloured. _

_From:C Lightman  
_

_Sent: November 8__th__, 2007 11:00:32_

_To:G Foster  
_

_I just checked, it's black._

_From:G Foster  
_

_Sent: November 8__th__, 2007 11:06:10_

_To: C Lightman  
_

_Yesterday's shirt was black too. Or should I say last week's shirt? You sure it's clean? Because I am not bringing you to a meeting if you smell._

_From:C Lightman  
_

_Sent: November 8__th__, 2007 11:13:58_

_To:G Foster  
_

_Oi, I do not smell. I showered and everything! What, don't believe me then, Foster? Want a practical demonstration? I'm bloody single now, you know, so that can be arranged._

_From:G Foster  
_

_Sent: November 8__th__, 2007 11:15:33_

_To:C Lightman  
_

_I'm not! Tough luck :( The meeting is in 15 minutes – with the Rawlison's. They have the missing daughter. Let me know if you can't handle this. I'm serious, Cal._

_From:C Lightman  
_

_Sent: November 8__th__, 2007 20:07:07_

_To:G Foster  
_

_I'll be okay. Just – keep it up, Foster. Even if I'm a plonker, yeah?_

Near as she could figure, that was the week after she and her Mom had left their house. Emily frowned, thinking back on the time period in question. She didn't remember much – she'd cried a lot, and told her mother she hated her profusely. But she didn't remember much about how her Dad had been during that time – every phone conversation she could recall, she'd cried through, telling her Dad how much she hated the new house, and how much she just wanted to go _home_. She'd been too wrapped up in her own drama to even check on how her Dad had been doing.

Which was clearly, not well.

She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face, wondering where exactly her father would be without Gillian. Where _she_ would be.

Most of Gillian's e-mails were routine work things – notices of meetings, office memo's, budget reports, evaluation reports and the like. And her father seemed to generally not respond at all to them. She sifted through the next few pages of mundane emails until she came across one with an attached picture. She laughed out loud, drawing looks from the other people in the library.

_From:G Foster  
_

_Sent: March 17__th__, 2009 12:08:13_

_To: C Lightman  
_

_Attachment:lolcatsihateverything_

_Cal._

_Since you refuse to go over the employee evaluations and send me back your approval, I will be sending one of these with every e-mail until you do. This one reminded me of you :)_

_Don't even act like you don't always read my e-mails. –G_

_. _

_From:C Lightman  
_

_Sent: March 17__th__, 2009 12:15:07_

_To:G Foster  
_

_What the fuck is that thing supposed to be? I do not look like that, Foster._

_From:G Foster  
_

_Sent: March 17__th__, 2009 12:17:23_

_To:C Lightman  
_

_Attachment:lolcatsvoices_

_Yes you do. Some days. And you __**still**__ haven't told me your opinion on the evaluations. I'm waiting, Cal._

_From:C Lightman  
_

_Sent: March 17__th__, 2009 12:23:14_

_To:G Foster  
_

_Jesus Christ Gill, stop attaching those bizarre cats. I read the reports. They looked fine. Send them off, then, alright? NO MORE CATS._

_From:G Foster  
_

_Sent: March 17__th__, 2009 12:32:17_

_To:C Lightman  
_

_Attachment:lolcatsninja_

_LIAR! I recommended Loker for an upgrade to full pay PLUS a raise! You didn't even READ those reports! _

_Ninja-ed._

_From:C Lightman  
_

_Sent: March 17__th__, 2009 12:35:54_

_To:G Foster  
_

_Oh, bollocks._

_From:G Foster  
_

_Sent: March 17__th__, 2009 12:37:45_

_To:C Lightman  
_

_Attachment: lolcats?.jpg_

_I'm grabbing us lunch and bringing the __**real**__ evals to your office. You better be there. What do you want me to pick up for you?_

_From:C Lightman  
_

_Sent: March 17__th__, 2009 12:39:12_

_To:G Foster_

_Greek salad._

_I hope you've run out of those things, love._

It was the last e-mail in the thread, and Emily was giggling to herself as she highlighted the whole section for cross-reference. She'd bet everything she had, which sure, wasn't much admittedly, but she was willing to bet that her Dad's secret file contained those damn pictures.

She was pulling out the important e-mails and putting tucking them in her binder, while separating the unimportant ones into a pile to be shredded before she went home for the weekend. Most of the e-mails were mundane, but she was enjoying going through them – it was a rare opportunity to see several things. One, the day to day running of her father's business. Which he apparently left mostly to Gillian. Two, they often discussed cases, which she was absolutely _sure_ her father would be livid to know she was reading the details of, but it gave her the most intimate view of how they worked these cases, and it was incredibly educational. And three, it showed her the level of respect and trust between Gillian and her father.

Oh sure, there were periods where the tone was crisp professional and you could clearly read tension between the lines, but for the most part there was an underlying warmth and humour in all of their correspondence, even the ones that were strictly professional.

She was flicking through rapidly now, skimming when her own name caught her eye. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should by pass this – she was fairly certain that anything her Dad and Gill had to discuss about her was probably something she shouldn't see, but...

_From:C Lightman  
_

_Sent: August 22__nd__,2009, 13:23:09_

_To:G Foster  
_

_Gill – hypothetically, if a sixteen year old girl lies to her dad about where she's spending the night... this doesn't necessarily mean she's – you know. Shit. I'm gonna kill Emily, say your goodbye's alright?_

_From:G Foster  
_

_Sent: August 22__nd__, 2009, 13:42:28_

_To:C Lightman  
_

_Cal, it's a Saturday – why are you e-mailing me? Just call. And you won't kill Em. She's going to grow up no matter what you do._

_From:C Lightman  
_

_Sent: August 22__nd__, 2009, 14:02:13_

_To:G Foster  
_

_I can't talk about it. Out loud, if you know what I mean. This doesn't seem so bad._

_I don't want her growing up. Especially if it means she's growing up into her boyfriend's bits._

_Gill. She doesn't know that I know she was at Dick's last night. What do I do?_

_From:G Foster  
_

_Sent: August 22__nd__, 14:05:57_

_To:C Lightman  
_

_Attachment:lolcatsmahjob_

_Trust her, Cal. She is a good girl – she'll come to you about all of this when she's ready but if you push her, or confront her, you'll fight and she'll get stubborn. She's kind of like her father that way. If you don't want to call, Cal, then come over. Don't be there when she gets back. You'll do something stupid._

_Come over. No arguments. Or else..._

_From:C Lightman  
_

_Sent: August 22__nd__, 2009, 14:10:43_

_To:G Foster  
_

_No. Stop it – no more of those bloody cats. I'll come over. Just for the love of God don't reply to this._

Emily sat in shock for a moment. She'd never realized her Dad had known, all along, that she'd been sleeping with Rick. He'd seemed so shocked and _angry_ when she told him. But clearly that'd been an act – or, or maybe he _had _been shocked, because suspecting something wasn't nearly the same as knowing it outright.

She smiled as she read Gill's words again. Trust her, Cal. Gillian'd kept her Dad in check somehow, about the whole thing. She sat back, wondering just what the hell Gill had said to him that day when he went to her place. She licked her lips, picking up her phone, and scrolling through her contact list while shoving her papers into her bag and standing. She exited the library, hitting the send button as she stepped outside.

"Hello?"

"Gill?"

"Emily!" Gillian's voice was warm, and Emily could hear a slight rustling. "How are you? I'm sorry I missed you last weekend – I was looking forward to you being home."

"No, that's alright. I'm coming home this weekend too. I'm working on a project, and I kinda need the break. Which is why I'm calling actually. I was hoping you'd have dinner with me and Dad maybe? I missed you last weekend." She walked as she talked, her tone slightly wheedling. "We could maybe go shopping, and meet Dad for dinner."

"Oh, he's not invited for the shopping?" Gillian was laughing as she asked, and Emily chuckled.

"No, he could come if he wants to, but I doubt he'll jump at the invitation." Emily paused by a bench, sitting down and looking across the quad at the students bustling back and forth. "I need some new clothes."

"_Need?"_ Gillian laughed as she asked. "Really?"

"Hey, need is a subjective term. According to me, I need them. And I'm sure if we happen to wander by a shoe store or two, you may find out _you_ need some new things." Emily grinned, her hand gripping the strap of her bag as she shifted on the bench. "Saturday, alright? I'll mention it to Dad when I talk to him."

"I'm looking forward to it." Gillian's response was warm and enthusiastic.

"Oi, Foster – stop faffing about on the phone and hop to it!"

"Is that my dad? Tell him to keep his pants on." Emily instructed and Gillian laughed.

"Yeah it is." Emily could hear the sound of the phone being moved. "It's Emily. And I'm coming now."

"Tell him to keep his pants on!" Emily laughed and Gillian's laughter joined hers.

"I'm not telling him that!"

"She being cheeky? Tell her to call me later, now come on – we have to get to the scene."

"Alright Em, I'll see you on Saturday, alright?" Gillian sounded like she was moving as she spoke and Emily grinned, picturing her pulling her coat on while the phone was pressed to her shoulder, half hunched over her desk. Maybe her Dad was helping her put it on, handing her her purse – a small giggle escaped.

"Alright Gill, love you!" Emily heard Gill's small intake of breath.

"Love you too, hon. Bye."

"Bye." She hung up, staring down at the phone thoughtfully. She remember Gillian's reaction when she'd hugged her in her office, and she smiled fully, remembering her vow to keep telling Gillian how much she loved her. She knew each time she expressed it; Gillian was touched, truly and deeply touched. And she also knew it was probably something Gill didn't hear every day. And she _deserved _to.

Spending time with Gillian would be part of her first practical experiment, but she knew she would enjoy the alone time with her friend, and she had to keep that in mind.

Nodding with resolve, she stood up and headed toward her dorm with a grin on her face.

Her Dad wouldn't know what _hit_ him.

* * *

_Experiment 2 – subject A is questioned about his history with subject B and all observable responses are recorded._

"So Gillian told me you'd be going shopping together this weekend."

"Yeah, Dad." Emily responded, pressing her phone between her shoulder and her ear as she booted up her laptop. "I thought we'd all go out to dinner afterward, is that okay?"

"Oh I get a say _now_, do I?" His voice was snippy and she sighed harshly.

"I'm sorry; I didn't think I'd need to run spending an evening with your daughter and your _best friend_ by you. Are you and Gill fighting again?" She stuck the flash drive in as she spoke, lifting her head and holding her phone once more as she waited for the files to transfer to her hard drive.

"Again? Were we fighting before?" It was less a question and more a challenge.

"Not _recently_ no, but you and I both know that there was that whole _thing_ in my last year of high school. So I just thought I'd ask." She tapped her fingers on the desk next to her computer and she rolled her eyes at the sound of her father's grumbling.

"There wasn't a thing that year."

She laughed slightly, "Dad if you think there wasn't a thing that year, then you are ridiculously blind when it comes to Gill. She walked around that office for almost three months looking like somebody shot her dog. She was _sad_ all the time. And you were grumpy. And then, I don't know – after Christmas it seemed to get better so I assumed you guys had worked it out."

"We weren't fighting, Emily." His voice sounded tired and she winced in sympathy.

"You weren't getting along though, were you? For a while – that Fall, right?"

He sighed softly, "You know me Em, sometimes I'm a right bastard. Gill and I – we worked through it though. We're fine now."

"You could be _better_ than fine if you'd work it _out_ instead of just working through it. Yeah Dad, I know you can be a big jerk sometimes – but never without reason. And I bet you never explained what that reason was to her, right?"

"This isn't any of your business, love." His voice was firm and she knew she wouldn't get any further with him.

"Sorry – I didn't mean to bring bad stuff up, Dad. I just missed Gill last weekend, and I thought I could spend time with her. I didn't think you'd mind spending time with both of us." Her voice was soft, contrite and she heard him exhale softly.

"Of course I don't _mind_ Em."

"You get her all week long – I miss her when I'm gone." She smiled as she spoke and she heard him chuckle.

"You don't miss your dear old Dad? I am hurt, Emily."

"Well, Gillian's prettier." She teased and he laughed slightly.

"Well, that's certainly true. Alright – shall I cook something then, or did you want to go out?" His voice sounded lighter now and she sighed in relief.

"Oh can you make cottage pie, Dad? You know it's my favourite! I eat enough crappy takeout food while I'm here, thanks."

"If that's what you want, love. I'll see you on Friday then, yeah? Or are you gonna stop at your Mum's first?" His tone acquired a slight edge as he mentioned her Mom and Emily shook her head, even though he couldn't see her.

"Nah, Mom's away this weekend. I'll see you Friday evening, Dad. Love you!"

"Love ya too Em." He hung up and she put her phone down on her desk, turning her attention to the file now transferred on to her laptop.

Opening it, she smiled victoriously when she saw thumbnails of the lolcat images Gillian had sent with her e-mails. There were also a few photos – shots of Gillian reading a book, one of her Dad and Gillian dressed up at some party. A shot of Gillian laughing. There was an image labelled as a scan, and she clicked on it to open the image. When it expanded on her screen she frowned, recognizing both her Dad and Gill's handwriting on what looked like a napkin.

Clearly it was a back and forth between the two of them, and it looked like it was back when they decided to start the company. She stared at it for a beat before closing the file. There were scans of handwritten letters, images of his brain scans, and a copy of what looked like the file Gillian had for her Dad when he met her at the pentagon – Emily didn't know much about how they met, but it looked like Gillian had been _treating_ her dad.

There were audio files, and she plugged in her ear buds and listened with interest and no small amount of guilt. These were private sessions – but she couldn't seem to help herself. Hearing her father's guilt, hearing his voice in her ears as he explained about that man and his family. She swallowed heavily, wondering why they were recorded, and why her Dad would even have these files, let alone keep them.

He talked about her, in some sessions, and the sound of his voice made her smile. But he talked about her Mom too, and Emily suddenly understood there was a whole other layer to interactions between Gillian, her Dad and her Mom that she'd never even knew _existed_. She wondered if her Mom had known – when her Dad started the company with Gillian. Had she known Gillian was his shrink? That he talked to her about – about _everything_? That Gillian had understood him on some fundamental level before they'd even began?

She had to believe that he'd lied to her mother – told her she was a colleague, someone he'd worked with. Because if she'd known -

She sighed heavily at that thought. The final file was a video file – the only one included. She clicked on it, and it took a minute to open in her media player.

The first thing she heard was laughter, not a chuckle, not a guffaw but full laughter and she smiled, thinking she hadn't heard that sound from her father in _years_.

"I don't know what – the bloody hell, oh wait – Gill! Gill! I think I figured the fucking thing out!"

The screen went from dark to blurry and light, finally focusing on Gillian's face, glaring at the lens. "Cal! Language."

"What? Am I supposed to pretend like I don't swear on this thing? Fuck, no – I think you know I have a mouth like a tramp steamer love. Who else is gonna care?" Gillian smiled and shook her head, her eyes twinkling.

"Maybe you'll show Emily some day!"

"Oh right –" the camera swung around nauseatingly and suddenly she could see part of her Dad's face in the shot, and Gillian, with her arms crossed behind him. He wagged a finger at the screen and frowned fiercely. " Emily, don't fucking swear, alright? It's not on. There, feel better now darling?" He glanced over his shoulder before swinging the camera around again. Gillian laughed and the camera shook from side to side. "Come on, come on then! Open the damn door Gill, it's bloody fucking freezing out here."

"You'd be warmer if it hadn't taken you fifteen minutes to figure out how to work the camera!" She scolded, pushing a key into the door and twisting the lock.

"You take much longer darling, and I'll turn into a bird."

"That sounds so wrong." Gillian's shoulders shook with laughter as she pushed open the door, walking in and reaching for the light, illuminating the small room beyond. There was a high partition jutting out from one wall – a receptionist's desk. Gillian turned around, waving her arms expressively. "Welcome to The Lightman Group, Dr. Lightman." She smiled, big and wide and it lit up her whole face.

"Why thank you, Dr. Foster." The camera jostled as her father set it on the desk, walking over to where Gillian stood and taking her hand in his. He danced her around the empty room and Emily smiled as she watched Gillian throw her head back in laughter.

"This is going to be good, Cal."

"No, love." Her father danced them closer to the desk, his arm around Gillian's waist, pulling her closer as he put his face within inches of hers. "It's going to be _brilliant_, Gill. You and me? No other possible outcome." Gillian laughed before pushing him away with a shove and walking over to the camera.

"Well I'll just have to believe you, Cal. You're the only honest man I know." She reached for the camera, picking it up and turning it off, leaving the screen black once more. Emily stared at it for a moment longer before muting the sound and rewinding it back to the moment her Dad had pulled Gillian closer to him. She paused it, staring at the expression on her father's face as he looked at Gillian. His chin was down, and his eyes were hooded, but the smile on his face was unlike _any _smile Emily had ever seen before.

Gillian had the same expression on her face – but lighter, airier – like laughter frozen and frosted with love. She stared at that picture for almost five minutes, before print screening it and saving it to her research file.

How could they both be so damn _blind_?

* * *

_Experiment 3 – Subject B is manipulated to change the independent variable of her usual attire in order to elicit a response from Subject A._

"And then there's this guy that is working with me on a partners project in Statistics." Emily pulled her shirt over her head in the small changing room, pulling another one on and smoothing it down over her hips. She pulled the door aside and walked out. "What about this one?"

"Oh that's cute, I like that one!" Gillian turned from where she was standing in front of the mirror in a red dress, just a touch shorter than she usually wore. It was about two inches above the knee, and had a high neckline, but it dipped low in the back. "What about this boy?"

"Oh my God Gill, you _have_ to buy that dress. It looks fabulous on you! Look at those legs!" Emily was grinning and Gillian smoothed her hands down over her hips and thighs with a frown.

"You think? It seems a little short..."

"Well yeah it's shorter than what you normally wear, but it's still really classy, Gill. Plus you have fabulous legs! You should show them off." Emily grinned and walked up beside Gillian, wrapping her up in a one-armed side hug. "You have to buy it. No arguments."

"Alright, alright." Gillian turned to Emily with a grin. "Now stop deflecting about this boy."

"It's not like _that_. He's... I dunno, weird." Em slipped back into the changing room and took the pants and top off that she was wearing, and slipped back into her own clothes. When she walked back out, she had an armful of clothes, and Gillian was waiting for her, also changed and holding a handful of dresses.

"Weird how?" Gillian asked as they stood in the line waiting to pay.

"He's really quiet I guess. Intense, maybe? He's so not my type, but I don't know, there's something about him when he talks to me. Like he never gets distracted, and he always pays attention. But I don't know... he's just not the type of guy I'd normally go for. He really sucks at talking to girls – not just me, _any_ girl. And he's ... I don't know." She paid as she spoke, and took her bags when she was done, joining Gillian who'd already paid.

"Sounds interesting." Gillian spoke with a smile and Emily followed her out into the busy mall. "We should get some coffee, or some ice cream!"

"Ice cream? Dad will kill us if we spoil our appetites."

"What are you, five? We'll eat! Come on, there's a Coldstone, Emily. Gummi bear ice cream is the _best_." Gillian was pouting and Emily laughed, moving her bags to her left hand so she could take Gill's hand and drag her forward through the mall. "Oh my god, Dad's right, you really _are_ twelve!"

After they'd gotten their ice creams and slid into their seats with a sigh, dropping their bags into the empty chairs beside them, Gillian grinned at Emily with a spoon in her mouth. "You know," she started, removing the spoon and scooping up more of her gummi bear ice cream, "weird isn't always a bad thing. Sometimes the strange ones are more... interesting."

"Huh. You think? I'm not sure; physically he isn't really my type. He's not athletic, he's not outgoing, he's shorter then I'd like – not that that's like, a _problem_ or anything, I mean, you know, look at Dad. He's not super tall, but still." Gillian laughed as Emily spoke.

"He's tall enough – height doesn't matter as long as you still have the option of wearing heels without towering over him too much. And you know, you don't have to deal that whole, crick in your neck, he's hunching over you just to kiss you and making you bend back because he's actually _over_ compensating thing."

"Wow." Emily grinned and stared at Gillian who was busy eating another mouthful of ice cream, "that was _really_ specific. Clearly an issue you've dealt with before."

"I've dated tall guys. I don't know, I don't mind somebody my sizeish." Gillian scraped her spoon along the bottom of her almost empty cup. "Darn it, I shouldn't have let you talk me out of the gotta have it size!"

"Yeah, I'm sorry." Emily laughed, taking a bite of her own ice cream. "Glutton."

"Shut up!"

"_Anyway_ he hasn't even asked me out. So I don't know what I'm even worried about. He's just – he's – I really _like_ talking to him. He makes me smile." She smiled as she looked down at her melting ice cream. She felt bad, lying to Gillian about this imaginary guy, so that'd she'd draw parallels and compare him to her dad. Something she'd made almost blatantly obvious, but she'd practiced her story about the mystery guy over and over last night so she wouldn't _sound_ practiced. Slipping a lie in a story by Gillian was kind of like trying to look her Dad in the eye and lie to his face.

"You should ask him out."

Emily laughed out loud at Gillian's advice, and Gillian snuck her spoon into Emily's container, stealing a bite. "Hey! And I couldn't ask him out."

"Why not?"

"Because – because- I don't know!" She looked down at the table, flushing with embarrassment. "I've never asked a guy out before." She muttered.

"Such a feminist." Gillian teased gently. "You said he's not great at talking to girls, so maybe you need to take the reins, so to speak." They stood, gathering their bags and tossing their cup sin the trash as they walked out of the store and headed out to the parking lot.

"I don't know." Emily bit her lip, turning the topic over in her head before sneaking a glance at Gillian. "We're friends. What if that's all it is?"

"Well, you'll never know until you try." Gillian insisted, unlocking her trunk and they put their bags inside. She shut it and then they opened their doors, and she started the car, buckling her seatbelt while Emily followed suit.

"Would you do that?" Emily asked as they pulled out onto the road, heading to drop Gill's things off before they went to her Dad's house. "I mean, if you had a friend you felt that way about?" She was skating a little too close to the edge, she could tell by the frown that creased Gillian's forehead.

"I think it would depend on the situation, Em. You haven't known this guy very long, and you're not really _good_ friends, so in this case, yes I would. I'd want to know."

"And if you were really good friends for a really long time?"

"Emily." Gillian's tone was a warning and Emily sighed, sitting back in her seat.

"Sorry, it was just a question." She apologized quickly. "It doesn't matter. I think you're right. Maybe I will ask him out – or at the very least try to spend more time with him and see if, I don't know, maybe things happen." They pulled into Gillian's parking lot, and Emily went with her into her condo. She liked Gill's place – it was very elegant and classy. Very _Gillian_. "You should put your new dress on."

"Is it a fancy meal?" Gillian was laughing, moving down the hall to her bedroom as Emily trailed after her, watching her pull the dresses out of the bags neatly, clipping the tags and pulling empty hangers out of her closet.

"No, but it looks _great_ on you Gill. They all do, but especially the red. And I don't know, isn't it nice to wear new stuff straight away sometimes? I always feel like I'm someone else – or _could_ be." She fingered the soft red fabric as she smiled over at Gill. "Some killer black pumps, and I bet you look so hot that Dad spills something _twice_ tonight."

Gillian flushed, and looked down at the dress in question. "I'm not looking to impress Cal, Em."

"You do it without trying anyway, Gill. Come on – twenty bucks says you can get him to spill the wine at least twice, and make him forget what he's saying a few times too. Let's say five. But you have to wear some kick ass shoes, and you have to not hide the legs away." She grinned, walking over to Gillian's closet and going through her shoes until she found a black pair with a high heel and a red sole. "And it _has_ to be these shoes."

"Twenty bucks? This seems like a _lot_ of work on my part for a lousy twenty bucks."

"I'm a poor college student, Gill," Emily pouted from her seated position on the floor. "Twenty bucks and a pint of gummi bear ice cream." She amended and Gillian's eyes lit up.

"Oh! You're _on_. Sucker." She picked up the dress and moved into the en suite bathroom, calling over her shoulder, "I'd have done it _just_ for the ice cream!"

* * *

_Experiment 4 – Subject A and B are observed over an evening together, to see if any previous manipulations have had an effect. Researcher may highlight topics and subjects observed in Experiment 1 to encourage further response in both subjects._

"Stop it, you look great." Emily smacked Gillian's hand that was tugging at the fabric of her dress as they walked up the path to her Dad's house.

"I shouldn't have let you talk me into this." Gillian muttered and Emily stopped, barking out a laugh.

"Ha! As if I _talked_ you into it – first off, if you didn't want to wear it, you wouldn't have agreed to the bet in the first place. Secondly, you look amazing and you know it and thirdly-"

"What on earth are you two doing?" They both turned at the sound of her Dad's voice; looking up to here he stood on the porch, hands on his hips and ridiculous apron wrapped around his waist.

"Nothing." They both responded simultaneously.

He looked at them both suspiciously as they moved forward, climbing up the stairs and walking past him into the house. Emily placed a quick kiss on his cheek before she headed into the hallway, dropping her bags by the door and pulling her coat off. Gillian followed her, pulling her own short jacket off as her Dad trailed behind them both, shutting the door. "Well did you have a..."

There was a pause as he trailed off and Emily glanced over her shoulder to see her Dad eyeing Gillian up and down in the same manner she imagined a starving man would eye a buffet. She grinned, turning around fully. "A what, Dad?"

"Oh!" He startled and she grinned smugly at Gill who blushed, the colour spreading down her neck and shoulders. "Shopping – at the mall. Uh, you know, a good day? Did you have a good day?" He shook his head as he spoke and his gaze returned to Gillian, travelling from her shoulders and down leisurely, before skating back up to meet her eyes. "Is that new, darling?" He grinned when he noticed Gillian's skin, still flushed and growing even redder now. "I like it."

"See? I told you it was perfect, Gill. She almost didn't buy it, Dad, can you believe that?" Emily was blatantly directing her Dad's attention to Gillian and she didn't know if it was a credit to her improving redirection skills or Gillian's dress that he went along with it willingly.

"Well it's not what I usually wear..." Gillian's hands skated over her hips in another self-conscious gesture as they all walked back into the kitchen.

"More's the pity." Her Dad muttered under his breath, but clearly enough that she and Gill heard him, and Emily giggled out loud.

"What?" Her Dad looked at her with his patented slack jawed expression but she just grinned and shook her head.

"Nothing, Dad, I completely agree. Gill's gorgeous – she should show it off more often!" His eyes softened as he looked at her for a moment before transferring his gaze to Gillian.

"That she should." Cal agreed and Emily nodded even as Gillian blushed harder.

"So, is supper ready yet? We're starving!" Emily bounced over to the kitchen table, sitting down at one of the place settings.

"Oi, you could at least offer to get the drinks Em!" Her father scolded her and she shrugged and watched him pour two glasses of wine, handing one to Gillian and glaring at her. "You can help yourself then, yeah?"

She sighed and got up, grabbing a glass from the cupboard before pouring herself some milk, a habit forced into her at childhood that she never could break. "So, _is_ it almost ready?" She grinned at him as she asked, her smile lighting up further when he nodded.

"Yeah, I put it to warm about fifteen minutes ago. You guys didn't eat while you were out?" He was pulling the dish out of the oven as he spoke, and Gillian walked over to the table, placing her glass there before stacking the plates and walking over to the oven.

"We stopped for ice cream." Emily offered. "_Some_ of us had more than others."

"Some of you, yeah? You gonna eat all your supper like a good girl, Gill?" Her Dad arched his brows at Gillian as he scooped the casserole onto their plates.

Gillian tried and failed to reign in a smile, it grew across her face, starting in the twitching corners of her mouth and spreading until her eyes lit up and she laughed out loud. "Of course I will, Cal. Wait – do I get a _treat_?"

Her Dad opened his mouth and closed it for a moment, clearly thrown by her flirting, and Gillian took the opportunity to lift the remaining casserole and bend down, sliding it into the oven. Emily bit her lip to stop a giggle from escaping at how her father _blatantly_ eyed Gillian's backside and thighs, exposed by the hem of her skirt lifting in the back. She closed the oven door, turning around and standing, catching Cal in the act. "Well, _do_ I?" She asked again and he frowned, tearing his eyes from her legs reluctantly and blinking in confusion.

"What?"

"Does she get a treat for eating all her supper, Dad." Emily filled in and he shook his head, chuckling when Gillian pouted.

"No dessert?" Gillian's question was small, and Emily grabbed her plate, carrying it and her milk over to the table.

"What? No! I mean yes, of course there's dessert, Foster – like I could have you over for dinner and _not_ get dessert." He lifted their plates and carried them over, while Gillian followed with their wine glasses. Once everyone was seated, they dug in and silence reigned for a moment.

"So what'd you get me?" Gillian paused in her eating to nudge him in the shoulder and he rolled his eyes.

"I don't bloody know, chocolate chocolate chocolate something or other. It definitely had chocolate in the title three times though." Gillian clapped, sitting back and eating another bite.

"This is delicious, by the way."

"It's my favourite!" Emily spoke up from across the table. "It tastes delicious, right? I keep bugging him to teach me, but he _won't_." She smock glared at her father and he grinned back at her.

"I'll tell you when you're older, love."

"I'm older now, Dad!"

"Not old _enough_."

"Ugh!" She rolled her eyes and took a drink of her milk. "I'll beat it out of you one of these days, Dad. You can't keep it from me forever!"

"I can certainly try." Her dad's expression was smug and she growled at him.

"You realize he's saying no just because you're asking him? Just show up when he's making it sometime and don't ask anything, he'll teach you." Gillian shrugged and continued to eat while he shot a glare at her.

"Oi, Foster, you can't be giving away trade secrets on how to-" He paused for a moment, frowning.

"On how to _handle_ you, Cal?" Gillian offered sweetly and Emily laughed from across the table, causing both of them to look at her.

"She should, Dad. She's the most qualified; I think we all know that. Really she should _charge_ for the advice. She's always been the only one able to handle you, even Mom says so." Emily shrugged before clearing the last bit of casserole off of her plate, looking longingly at the oven, but deciding she wanted dessert more than seconds. And she could always have more later anyway. Score.

Gillian wrinkled her nose at mention of her Mom and Emily arched a brow at her, causing the other woman to giggle, a grin spreading across her face. Her Dad watched her, seemingly fascinated. "I mean you have the most experience Gill, you guys have known each other for like, _ever_. Right? I don't remember, was I seven or eight when we met Gill?"

"You were eight. And adorable." Gillian smiled softly and Emily made a show of preening across the table.

"Still _am_." She insisted, and both of them laughed, lifting their wine glasses and taking a sip in tandem. "Hey – how'd you guys meet anyway? You've never told me the story."

Gillian froze for a fraction of a second, and if she were anyone else's daughter, she'd have missed the look exchanged between the two of them. Cal cleared his throat and put his glass down first.

"We worked together at the Pentagon, Em, you know that."

"Yeah but, like, on the same cases? Did you meet Gill through work?" She knew the bare bones of it, thanks to the tapes- but she was intensely curious about the hows and whys of it all. Plus, she was dying to see what, if anything, her Dad would tell her. Her Dad looked at Gillian again, before turning back to her.

"She was my therapist, actually. For a few sessions." Emily's mouth dropped open in genuine shock, because she honestly had expected him to lie to her.

"And she fixed you that fast?" She teased him and he smiled briefly.

"Nah, I'm beyond repair, you know that Em. I had to see her because of a case – it was a difficult one. She was assigned to evaluate me."

"Lucky for you." Emily smiled and her Dad paused, tilting his head in thought. Gillian was already gathering plates, and taking them over to the dishwasher.

"You don't have to do that, love." Cal protested, but Gillian shook her head with a grin.

"Gets me dessert quicker. I'm going to make coffee too – you want tea made, Cal?" He shook his head no, and looked back at Emily with a small smile.

"You know you're right – it _was_ very lucky for me."

"What made you decide to ask Gillian to be your partner? When you left I mean?" He sat back, toying with the stem of his wine glass and looked across the table at her. Gillian remained busy in the kitchen, she currently was opening up the container of coffee beans and inhaling deeply, but Emily knew she was listening to every word that was being said.

"Because I could tell three things about Gill right away," he smiled in fond remembrance as he spoke, "first, she was an intelligent woman, second that she could _see_ more than I was showing her and third, that she was most definitely better than that place. She deserved better." He shrugged awkwardly and frowned. "I thought I could give her that."

"I'm glad you did." Emily grinned, trying to lighten her father's suddenly morose mood. "I shudder to think of a life without Gill. She's my favourite."

"And what am I exactly? And shouldn't you not have favourites, young lady? I'm hurt!" He seemed to snap out of it quickly, and Gillian came back to the table with a stack of small plates and cutlery. Her Dad jumped up, pushing her gently into the chair beside him. "I'll get the cake – you're the favourite around here, apparently."

Gill smiled and looked over to Emily. "I am?"

"Your tops in my books, kiddo." Emily laughed. "So I heard Dad tell it – now your turn. What did you think of him?"

"Your dad was... _fascinating_. Right from the beginning. Though I don't think he'd have asked me to leave and work with him if he hadn't approved my taste in music."

"Huh, and maybe I'd have changed my mind if I realized that you also had equally terrible taste in music too, love." Her dad dropped the cake on the table, and Gillian's eyes lit up as she leaned forward.

"My taste in music just happens to be _wide_ and _varied_, Cal Lightman! Oh my, this looks amazing." She was still eying the cake and Cal stepped back, waving his arms in front of him.

"You want to dive in fully clothed then?" His voice was teasing and Gillian blushed, before biting her lip and meeting his eyes.

"That's wedding cake, chocolate cake I would forgo the clothes for."

Emily observed as they shared a heated gaze that even _she_ could read sexual tension into. She wrinkled her nose, before pulling the cake and knife toward her, and began cutting slices and transferring them to plates. She wanted her Dad to be happy, and by happy, clearly she meant 'with Gill'. But she didn't want to actively think about their sex life, or _watch_ awkward moments. He was still her _Dad_.

She handed the biggest piece across the table to Gillian, whose face lit up as she took it with thanks. Her Dad's piece, alternately, was as skinny as she could make it, and her own fell somewhere in between. They ate dessert mostly in silence, except for the various noises of appreciation she and Gill made while eating the cake.

Afterward, she and Gill got up and made coffee for themselves, and just as they were walking into the living room, her cell phone rang. She glanced at the ID and saw that it was Loker, so she palmed her phone neatly and glanced at her Dad and Gill. "Sorry, I have to take this – just give me a minute." They walked ahead of her and she pulled back into the kitchen area, pressing against the wall there and peeking around the frame as she answered her phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey Em! How's it going?"

"Good, good, _perfect_ timing, by the way, so thank you for that." She kept her voice low and observed from the kitchen as her Dad and Gill sat on the sofa; just about five inches closer than any other normal person would consider a comfortable distance for friends. "Hang on. One second." She pulled her phone away from her ear, snapping a few quick photos for the file, before pressing it back to her ear. "Sorry, they have way less than acceptable social distance between them right now."

"Ah, less than five inches?"

"Huh, more like less than two." She corrected, and watched as Gillian smiled softly, crossing her legs toward her Dad, making her skirt ride up just a touch. Her Dad obviously noticed, because his hand fumbled for his wine glass, knocking it over and spilling the wine across the table. Emily giggled, grabbing a hand towel and tossed it to her Dad when he jumped up and walked through the dining area. He nodded his thanks and she arched a brow at him. He simply gave her a look before shaking his head and turning around to head back to mop up the spill. "Ha, he totally just spilled something because he's distracted by how smoking hot Gill looks tonight." She whispered gleefully to Loker, who chuckled in response.

"Have you given any thought to how we're gonna pull off the next one?"

"Yes, but nothing _good_. I mean, Dad's easy – hello I'm pretty sure he hits on every female that crosses his path-"

"Yeah, except Foster – like how the hell do you overlook _that_ one?" Loker snorted in disbelief and Emily grinned.

"Aww, does Eli have a little crush on the boss?" He protested and she laughed. "That is _so_ cute! Are you volunteering to be a variable in the next experiment?"

"No! I like my job. And my life, thanks. Jeez, look at what he did that _one_ time you got all evil and Obi Wan Lightman on me a few years ago. I'd imagine it'd be like that, times a _thousand_ if I _actually_ hit on Foster."

"Star Wars references, Loker? Seriously? Gee, _how_ do you not have a girlfriend in your life?"

"Shut up." He cleared his throat before continuing on. "We had a case interview yesterday – some CEO, George Clooney type who wants his employees vetted because he's got industrial espionage happening. Anyway, Foster wandered by during the interview and guy totally checked her out _and_ showed signs of arousal, so I think if we have her and Lightman work this case..."

"Wait," Emily frowned, "_how_ George Clooney-ish are we talking? I mean he's not _ridiculously_ good looking is he? Because we want Dad jealous, but at the same time, I don't want this guy to be like, an _actual_ threat."

"No worries in that department, guy is _totally_ married. No ring, and it took me a while to pin it down, but Foster'll see it eventually. He'll hit on her copiously until then though. And hopefully drive Lightman insane. I cannot believe I just actively _wished_ for one of your Dad's mood rampages. The things we do for you, Emily Lightman." Emily laughed at him, glancing back over her should to see that her Dad had somehow managed to sit even _closer_ to Gillian, his arm draped along the back of the sofa and his empty wine glass forgotten on the table. They looked to be in the midst of a serious discussion, but Gillian's face was flushed slightly and she wore a happy smile, so Emily knew it wasn't anything bad.

"God, just _make out_ already you idiots!"

"Are they doing that 'I'm five millimetres from your face and watching you like vision is foreplay but I'm not gonna do anything about it' thing again?" Loker's question sounded amused and she rolled her eyes.

"_Yes_."

"The office is gonna be _such_ a nicer place once they start doing it."

"Oh my God, _ew_, Loker. I don't want to _hear_ about things like that! I mean, yeah – I want them together but can we not think about the _afterward_ logistics? _Jeez_." She saw her Dad glance over his shoulder and study her intently for a moment, "Oh shit, he's giving me the 'what are you up to' gaze. Call me later this week with an update. Gotta go. Bye!" She hung up her phone and smiled in what she hoped was a breezy manner, picking up her mug and entering the living room to settle on to the chair she favoured. "Sorry – it was a school project thing."

"Was it a boy?" Her Dad's question was blunt and Gillian put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a reproving look.

"Seriously, Dad? I'm almost _twenty_. Yes, it was a _boy_. I do in fact; attend a co-ed school which does unfortunately require me to work with _boys_ sometimes. Crazy, right?"

"Don't be cheeky with me. So who's this boy then? Does he like you – wait; don't answer that, of course he does. They _all_ bloody do." He muttered and Gillian's hand rubbed circles on his shoulder as she leaned forward with a grin, so she could see Emily around Cal's defensive figure.

"Was it about your statistics project?"

"What?" Emily frowned, then remembering their conversation at the mall that day. "Oh, no! Psychology project actually – remember you told me to practically apply the lessons? I've been working on an... extra credit thing for Psych."

"Extra-credit?" Her father exclaimed just as Gillian asked,

"Oh, what are you working on?"

"_Voluntarily_." Her dad stressed. "For _extra credit_. With a _boy_."

"Oh for God's sake, Cal, give it a rest. She's going to date, she's an adult-"

"Barely!"

"-so just _get over it_." Gillian continued as if he hadn't spoken, and she leaned left, edging closer to speak to Emily, which also brought her closer to Cal, since he was in between them. Emily laughed when her Dad opened his mouth to argue, but seemingly lost his trail of thought as he blinked down at where Gillian's legs pressed against his.

"It's uh, just some practical work with scientific theory."

"Oh are you doing a _study?_" Gillian asked eagerly. "On?"

"Oh – uh – I, um," Emily floundered, biting her lip and drawing her Dad's undivided attention.

"What? Cat got your tongue? Don't want to share with us?" Her dad's tone was setting off warning bells in her head, that silky tone he adopted when he sensed weakness.

"No, it's just – you know, you guys are like, renowned in the field. My thing could be stupid – I just – I'll give you both copies of my analysis once I'm done okay? But not before then."

"I'm _sure_ it's not stupid Emily." Gillian smiled gently and she leaned back somewhat.

"I don't know. Maybe. But I _promise_ you two will be the first to see it once I'm done, okay?"

They both nodded, and she sighed in relief.

She was going to be in _ridiculous_ amounts of trouble when this all hit the fan.

* * *

_Experiment 5 – Subjects A is observed while subject B interacts with another member of the opposite sex. Experiment is repeated and subject B is observed under the same circumstances._

Emily had forgotten her statistics text on Wednesday, so she was just heading into her dorm room when her phone rang. Seeing The Lightman Group on the screen, she answered it with a grin.

"Hello?"

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you _oh my god _I hate you."

"Ria?" Emily tucked some hair behind her ear and sank down onto her bed with an apologetic smile that didn't do Torres any good, since she couldn't see it.

"And me, too!" Loker's voice piped up. "We have you on speaker phone so it looks like we're working. So for God's sake shut up if you hear us tell you to."

"What's going on?"

"_You_! And you're stupid, stupid plan, that's what!" Ria was speaking in a low, rushed tone. "Foster cam in this morning in some new dress-"

"Oh the blue one? Or was it the violet – because that one was _super_ cute and-"

"Blue!" Loker piped up. "And may I say, nicely played Miss Lightman, I have no idea how you convinced Gillian to buy that. It's so not her usual style, but we – well, mostly _I_, appreciate it."

"Shut up, Loker!" Ria snapped in her ear, and Emily toed off her shoes, stretching back out on her bed. She was fifteen minutes late for Statistics at this point anyway, so why bother? "Yeah so Foster comes in looking all, like _that_, and they have the meeting with Mr. Wilkens-"

"George Clooney guy." Loker adds, and Emily nods.

"Yeah, and? _What happened_?"

"What's _still_ happening you mean!" Torres exclaimed. "Dude has been hitting on Foster _hard core_ all day. I mean, she's flattered obviously but not reciprocating in any way but-"

Emily heard a loud bang and she jumped, immediately muting her phone. "Oi! Do I pay you two to damn well _gossip_ all day like little school girls? _No!_ I bloody well don't, so please tell me that you've analyzed the footage I gave you an hour ago. I'd like results for this idiot, so he can sod off."

"We just finished the analysis of the video interviews and we –" Ria started to speak and Emily could here loud clapping.

"Come on then, come on then – out with it, for Christ's sake!"

"None of them showed any deception leakage-"

"Oh bloody fucking hell!"

"But-" Loker popped in then, and Emily could hear the sound of rapid typing. "I did go over your interview with the _client_ as well, and look – here, when he talks about the leak costing him –"

"Oh you lying _bastard_." Emily heard her Dad mutter, and then another loud bang. "Wait! Go back there –"

"That's just after you left the room and-"

"Sound on!" Cal barked and suddenly Emily could hear muted voices in the background that she couldn't make out. "Did he just proposition Gill? Is this bloke even _serious_?"

"Yeah but she said-"

"And look! When he says he's free, he's fucking _lying_ – it's written all over his face. I bet he's married- which begs the question of why he doesn't want _us_ to know about his wife. Aside from the fact that he clearly would love to get into Foster's knickers." There was a heavy pause and then a sudden flurry of movement. "Loker, finish analyzing everything we've got on him, even his initial interview with you and Torres. Quickly, quickly, alright?" Emily could hear a door opening, and a muffled shout that sounded like her Dad calling for Gillian.

"Do you _see_ what we've been dealing with all day?" Emily unmuted her phone and sighed.

"I'm sorry guys. I mean, I'd hoped he would react – but _wow_."

"Y_eah_, wow. How lucky of you to let us handle this-"

"It was Loker's idea!" Emily protested and she heard a dull sound followed by an exclaimed 'ow!' from Loker.

"Way to narc me out, Emily. Jeez. That _hurt_."

"Sorry. I panicked." Emily apologized and Torres laughed.

"Alright we're gonna go work. Otherwise we may just die. But we'll call with updates." Torres spoke quickly. "And interviews are still this weekend right?"

"Yes, with large amounts of alcohol – because you know they'd stonewall our asses any other way." Loker added. "You'll be here for that right, Em?"

"Yup. With bells on." She frowned in embarrassed confusion for a second. "Or whatever."

Loker laughed out loud – "No, I like it. Bells. Cute – alright, I'll call you later."

"Bye guys. _Good luck_!" She was grinning as she hung up, knowing it was more than a little bit evil to be enjoying the fact that Loker and Torres were getting tortured at work. But as she walked to her next class, she couldn't deny that there was a spring in her step. Her father was totally jealous. And well, it made her grin to think of him taking it out on poor Loker and Torres.

The apple really doesn't fall _that_ far from the tree.

* * *

_Experiment 6 – in vino veritas. What? I'm sick of trying to sound professional at this point, you guys._

The plan was simple.

So naturally, it all went horribly wrong.

First off, they were supposed to separate. Girls and boys, but her Dad was having none of those suggestions, instead pestering Loker and Torres as to why they were even _in_ his living room, sat down Indian-style on his rug and drinking _his_ scotch.

He noticeably never ever asked why Foster was there. He just simply kept refilling his glass and then hers. Emily was the supervisor/designated driver, sipping her diet Coke and just watching the shenanigans go down. Loker had been the first one to get drunk, which was ridiculous, given that _they_ were supposed to be the ones interrogating her Dad and Gill.

"_Why_ are you lot here again?"

"Emily invited us!" Loker's words were slurred and her Dad shot her a glare that made her cringe and want to crawl under a blanket.

"And when were you talking to Em, then Loker?"

"She called me – no wait, I called her – no wait, she called me and I called her and then I called her again but it was really Torres that time and then me again. Calling her I mean. That last time."

Emily dropped her face into her hands, "God Eli, what are you a total lightweight?" Emily kicked out her leg and caught him in the shoulder. "Just shut _up_ already!"

"Oi! _Eli_ now, is it? What the hell?"

"He's been helping me with my case study, Dad. It's not like _that_." She shot a glare at her Dad and then another one at Torres, for not jumping in. Ria just shrugged, and leant back, leaving Loker unprotected. Finally she sent a beseeching look to Gillian, who put a hand on her Dad's arm, pulling him back against the sofa until his shoulder was pressed against hers.

"Cal."

Gillian's voice was a warning and he shot a glance over his shoulder at her. "But,"

"No, stop. It makes sense for Eli to help Emily, Cal, he's done lots of case studies in his specialty."

"Yeah see?" Loker was swinging his arms around and Emily kicked him again, a little bit harder this time. His hand caught her foot and he yanked, until she landed on the floor with a thud.

"Ow! Dammit, Loker!"

"Stop kicking me then." He shrugged calmly and Emily glanced over to see her father's mouth twitching like he was trying not to smile. She scootched up into a sitting position and punched Loker in the shoulder.

"_Ow!_ That hurt! Jeez, do you and Torres go to the same gym or something?" He was rubbing his shoulder and glaring at her when she stuck her tongue out at him.

Ria was simply laughing, a ridiculous grin on her face and an almost empty tumbler in her hand. And Emily realized the problem with this experiment was that they were both going to be uselessly drunk. Which meant that she'd have to do the interviews herself.

Ugh.

They were the worst help _ever_.

Except the one thing they were good for was spurning her Dad and Gillian into keeping up, drinks-wise. "Dad and Gill are drinking you guys under the table." She eyed Loker who'd leaned back, only to completely fall, his head hitting the floor with a dull thud. "_Literally_."

"Well they're young, love." Her Dad had poured himself another glass and glanced at Gillian with a wink. "Why I once saw Gillian here drink almost an entire bottle of _very_ expensive scotch, all by herself."

"You didn't _see_ me drink it. You just saw the empty bottle." Gillian's voice was softer, and while she wasn't slurring or stumbling over her words, she spoke slowly, enunciating each letter.

"Well to be fair, I saw you clearly drunk, too."

"Don't remind me." Gillian buried her face in his shoulder and Emily smiled, glancing down at Loker who wasn't moving, just staring at the ceiling.

"You have nice fics," he frowned, blinking "fist, no _fixtures_! They're pretty. I like 'em." He turned his head to get Torres' opinion, but she was asleep, sitting up next to the couch. "I'm not the first one down!" Loker raised his two arms in the air, waving them excitedly.

"She always falls asleep – it's the scotch I think." Gillian's voice was muffled from where her face was buried by Cal's shoulder, and her Dad was whispering something into her ear that was making what they could see of her neck flush a gentle red.

"Hey." Loker had swung himself up now, draining his glass and thudding it on the table. "I've have – no wait, I _have _a question." He was pouring himself another glass, shockingly not spilling anything. Noticing their stares he nodded. "Yeah, I get drunk super fast but I'm really good at lasting. Wait. That sounded dirty." He frowned and Emily giggled, pressing her hands to her lips to stifle the sound. He turned to look at her, winking, before swinging back to stare solemnly at the couple on the sofa.

"So even though I totally stopped that whole radical honesty thing, because really, it was just getting me radically punched a lot? I'm re-adopting it for the evening. In vino veritas and all that – or in scotcho veritas or whatever. How come you two aren't screwing yet?"

Emily gasped, torn between dying of laughter at Eli's serious expression or hugging the shit out of him for taking the burden of finding a subtle way to bring it up away from her.

"Who says we aren't?" Gillian lifted her head to deliver this line and both Emily and Loker adopted identical expressions of shock. Gillian burst into soft laughter, her arm wrapped around Cal's as she leaned forward. "Oh your _faces_!"

"Gillian that is _mean_!" Emily insisted. "I'm not even drinking, that was just – cruel."

"Cruel how exactly?" Her father's sharp gaze landed on her. "It's none of either of your business."

"That's a no." Loker looked over at Emily seriously. "Cause if it were a yes, joy would have leaked somewhere there." He waved up at Cal's face, which was now morphing from an annoyed expression to a pissed one. "I'm mean, who wouldn't be overjoyed about that? Foster is one banging looking lady."

"Oi!" Cal's tone was a warning and Loker started laughing, pressing his hand to his mouth.

"What? S'true!" Loker insisted, and Emily had to wrap her arms around herself to keep from laughing out loud. "Foster doesn't mind, do ya Foster?"

Gillian was blushing and she shook her head. "Nice to know I still have it – or some of it left, at any rate." She frowned and Cal glared down at where her head was tucked into his shoulder.

"Some of it left? Bloody hell woman, somehow you've got _more_ than you started with – don't know how that happened." Gillian's neck flushed a delicate pink again and she looked up at Cal, meeting his eyes. Loker watched the exchange, weaving unsteadily as he pulled his phone out and lifted it, snapping a photo and then exclaiming in victory. He swung around, hitting Emily's arm with the phone.

"Look, Em, look! Vaso- vaso- look! She's blushing!" Emily smiled in amusement as she took the phone from his hand, patting his arm as she did so.

"Thanks, Eli."

"Hey – you, stop taking pictures, and move away from my daughter." Cal's attention has swung back to them and Emily rolled her eyes as Loker slid back obediently.

"God Dad, quit it! It's just _Loker_."

"Hey!" Loker protested. "Wha's that supposed to mean?"

Cal chuckled, and Loker swung back toward him, taking in his smug expression. "Oh my God," Loker lifted a finger and wagged it. "You're just deflecting – cause you _still_ haven't answered my question! Sex. Why aren't you two having it?"

The grin slid off Cal's face and he glared at the younger man. "Enough, Loker."

"Shhh, I'll – I'll tell you a secret." Loker leaned forward, speaking in a hushed whisper. Gillian leaned forward too, interest written all over her face. "The secret is – are you ready? _Everyone_ knows you guys are in love, except you guys!" Loker started laughing as he spoke, and Emily frowned, elbowing him as she saw the identical looks of surprise on her Dad and Gill's faces.

"_Loker_." She hissed at him and he turned to her, waving his hands.

"No, no, no – this plan is better. Cause they're not gonna listen to the report, Em – so we should just – just _wing_ it now."

"_Plan_?" Her dad's voice was deathly quiet and Emily felt everything in her go still. "What plan?"

"_Eli_ I am going to _kill_ you." Emily ground out through her teeth and Loker blinked, suddenly sitting back with a shocked expression.

"Oh shit. Oh _shit_. I'msosorry." His apology was a rush of tangled words and Cal snapped his fingers, leaning forward with a glare.

"Oi! I am talking here – what bloody _plan_? Emily?" He stared her down and she looked away, her hands twisting in her lap because suddenly she felt as though she were about five years old again, getting caught stealing a candy bar from the local store. She'd given it back, but still felt so guilty on the way home that she'd thrown up, twice, much to her mother's dismay.

"Well..."

"The experiment." Gillian sat up now too, and she laughed out loud. "That Loker's been helping you with? Right? I'm right, right?"

Emily flushed with shame and Loker patted her shoulder awkwardly, heavy handed and not at all comforting really. "You are so dead. And I? Am so fired."

"An _experiment_? Are you out of your tiny little mind?" Cal was standing now, and towering over them, so Emily shot to her feet too – because she hated to go down not looking him in the eye.

"No, I'm _not_. It was a good hypothesis – and it's a _true_ one. You're so damn _blind_ about it all Dad! Both of you are!" She figured since she was in trouble anyway, she may as well go all in.

"She speaks truth!" Loker raised his empty glass and Cal glared down at him.

"You shut up; I'll deal with you later."

"You and Gill are _perfect_ for each other. She balances you out, Dad, always has. You guys are best friends, and you _always_ tell me that friendship is the best foundation for a relationship-"

"Yeah, because you date boys too quickly when all they want to do is-" He waved a hand inarticulately, and she glared at him before stepping closer and jabbing him in the shoulder with her finger.

"Whatever, Dad. You and Gill love each other- and there's _no_ way you can stand here and lie and say that there's no physical attraction. Sometimes when you guys hug, I think I should leave the room because it's more intimate than watching _porn_."

"And how would you know what watching _porn_ is like?" Her Dad's face was flushed now and Loker was trying to muffle his laughter below them, but failing.

"So _not_ the point, Dad."

"Was the statistics boy even _real_?" Gillian interjects, and Emily flushed with even more guilt before turning to face Gillian's gentle disappointment, which was somehow so much _worse_ than her Dad's loud anger. She felt a tingling in her nose, behind her eyes and she blinked the sensation away, because crying would not help her make her point, even if she _did_ feel horrible for putting that expression on Gillian's face.

"No. Not really." She moved over to the sofa and sat next to Gillian, taking her hands. "But everything else _was._ I love you, Gill, I _do_. And I just wanted – I just wanted you guys to be _happy_. You haven't been – neither of you. You've both been _okay_ which is a vast improvement over a while ago when everything was just _awful_ but I just – I _know_ you guys could be something amazing. If you both weren't so blind, or scared or whatever it is that's stopping you guys."

"Emily," Gillian's voice was soft and Emily shook her head.

"No. I thought I could _prove_ it to you, using your own science you know? Like if I just sat there and presented all these findings to you guys, you would listen to me. Take me seriously. You guys are _in love_, and you've both just ignored for so long – for very good reasons at the time – but it's like you just can't stop now, you know? Like it's some habit."

"So all those questions at dinner the other night – setting up the dinner in the first place, this, here, tonight – it's all be part of your _plan_, has it? You can't _manipulate _people into something like this, Em." Her dad's voice had lost its volume, but the anger was still there, rough underneath his tone. He sat down behind Gillian, and stared at their linked hands.

"Why not, Dad? _You_ manipulate people into seeing the truth all the time. You stick them in the cube, and you change variables, and manipulate data until you see what you want! You know what? You've both been in love with each other for_ever_, and I get it – I do. I get that you guys were married when you met, and I get why you didn't do anything about it then. But – but –_this_?" She stood, walking over to her bag and pulling the notebook out of it, opening it to remove the picture she'd printed of the still from the video she'd found on his computer and tossed it into their laps. "_This_ is what love looks like. And this is how _happy_ you guys could be again, if you just stopped being so _stupid_ about everything."

Gillian had picked the picture up in her hands, and traced the image of her own face with a sad smile. "You don't understand, Emily," she began but Emily was pulling out other photos now, the one she'd taken on her phone the previous night and the brain scans and sheets of e-mails and letters, and it was all sliding out of her notebook and falling around them, whisper quiet.

"No, I _do_ understand. I understand that I could show you guys more and more _proof_ and you're still going to be scared out of your minds. I get that this is a big scary risk, and that it's a lot to put your friendship on the line like this. But we all know that it would be _worth_ it. You could be happy." She threw the book down last of all. "And I'm sorry if you're both mad at me, and I'm sorry if I've disappointed you somehow with all of this, but I just wanted that. I wanted you to be happy. We all did." She picked up her purse, and grabbed Loker's shirt before hauling him up off the floor. He seemed decidedly more sober now, but still not _sober_ enough, so she nodded to Ria and together they got her to wake up enough that they could lift her off the floor.

"I'm driving them home now. And I'm _sorry_ if I somehow ruined everything or made it worse. But I'm right about all of this. And you both know it."

She and Loker supported Ria's drowsy weight, walking her out the door and leaving her Dad and Gillian sitting in a seas of papers, surrounded by pages and pages of their history and looking at each other searchingly.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Em." After dropping Torres off and settling her on her couch as she mumbled about missing all the fun, to which Emily had dropped her a little harder than need be – none of that had been very much _fun_ at all – Loker was practically almost sober. "I should have stuck to the plan."

"It doesn't really matter," Emily sighed as she gripped the steering wheel, "of course I kind of _really_ don't want to go home. I'm going to walk in to two people who are so disappointed in me it makes my chest physically _hurt._ Dad being angry I can handle, but Gillian being all disappointed is like – like punching kittens in the _face_ or something. God, I feel _terrible_. Why didn't you talk me out of this stupid idea?"

"Hey, you could walk in on two people who finally admitted they're in love too. Though if that's the case, I don't know if that's any better? Because I assume there would be sex involved, and eugh." He shuddered comically, shaking out his arms and turning toward her again. "Yeah, best option here is that you don't go home right away. Let's go get breakfast."

"Eli, it's four in the morning!" Emily laughed and he shrugged.

"Well yeah, but I'm still kinda drunk, and pancakes sound _really_ awesome right now, you know? Plus it delays the inevitable. And you'll know what's happening, because if they're pissed, Lightman'll be calling you all 'Oi! Where are you? Get your bloody arse home so I can yell at you in person in my ridiculous accent!'" Emily burst into giggles at Loker's terrible impersonation of her father's accent, complete with him leaning toward her in the passenger seat and tilting his head.

"And if they _don't _call?"

"Oh that's cause they're too busy sexing each other up." She grinned, moving the car into the left hand lane, and turning at the lights.

"I know a good diner."

"With pancakes?" He clapped and his eyes lit up in excitement.

"Yes, Loker, with _pancakes_."

* * *

Her phone didn't ring _once_ while she ate her way through an impressive amount of pancakes and bacon with Loker. He was getting smugger and smugger by the minute – sing songing about how his bosses were getting it on.

Emily didn't mind really, because he tried to affect the depth of Marvin Gaye's voice while singing, and it had her in stitches. When she dropped him off at his apartment, the sun had more than fully emerged, and still, her phone lay silent. He'd made her promise to call him with an update, but to wait until he wasn't hung over.

She promised, but _totally_ planned on calling him wickedly early anyway. Or late – being as it would be the afternoon by then anyway. On her way home, she pulled into a Coldstone Creamery store that was open shockingly early. Who needed ice cream at nine thirty in the morning?

Well, obviously _her_, but how often was that an occurrence? She figured she couldn't _hurt_ her chances by picking up a hand packed pint for Gillian. It would stop her from giving her the disappointed 'I can't believe you punched my kitten' face, at any rate.

The house was silent when she unlocked the front door and crept in. She was exhausted, and the lack of sleep was finally starting to hit her. A quick peek in the living room showed that her dad and Gill weren't in there, but the papers were all where she'd left them. Sighing softly, she bent and picked them up, stacking them together one by one and tucking them back under the cover of her composite book.

"And where have _you_ been?" Her father's voice scared the shit out of her, and she startled, nearly dropping the book that was in her hands. She looked over her shoulder to see him leaning against the door frame in a tee shirt and pyjama pants.

"I uh, went out for breakfast with Loker. I figured maybe some space would be good." Her dad nodded, and she placed the notebook on the coffee table gently, before picking up the bag she'd set on the floor when she'd started and moving through to the kitchen. He followed her silently, watching as she took the ice cream out and placed it in the freezer. At his look, she shrugged. "I figured it wouldn't hurt, just in case Gillian's _really_ mad at me."

His held his arms out and looked offended. "And where's mine then, yeah?"

"Dad, I can survive _you_ being mad at me, it's not like it's the first time or anything. But Gill just," she sighed softly, tucking her hair behind her ear and folding her arms across her chest, "I don't know. I hate disappointing her."

"I know, bloody super power, that is. And I don't even think she knows it." He settled on to one of the stools at the island and she bit her lip and looked at him expectantly. He stared back, calmly, his face blank and finally she glared at him.

"_Well_?"

"Well what?"

"Are you seriously gonna leave me in suspense? Are you still mad? Did you guys fight? Did you _not_ fight? What happened?" She swung her arms out, letting her palms slap against her thighs and he looked at her in amusement.

"Don't you deserve it, just a little bit, Em? You had no right to interfere." His voice was stern, and she flinched.

"I know." She agreed in a small voice. "But did it work?"

He grinned, and she walked around the island, shoving at his shoulder. "Dad, you scared me!"

"Listen, just because it _happened_ to work out well in the end, doesn't make me any less pissed at you Emily. You invaded our privacy, and went behind our backs to do it. _And_ you involved our employees – do you have any idea how embarrassed Gill was?"

"Your employees gossiped about you long before I approached them Dad, but I _am_ really sorry about invading your privacy. I'm the only one who saw all that, if it makes you feel any better." She leaned against the counter next to him, and he arched a brow at her.

"Very slightly better, yes." She leaned forward and hugged him tightly.

"I'm happy for you both, Dad." He squeezed her for a moment before leaning back with a grin.

"And no being insufferable about this whole thing. Dealing with Loker'll be bad enough, thank you very much." She smiled in agreement, nodding emphatically.

"No rubbing it in, got it. Where's Gill? Upstairs?"

"Asleep. And I'm going back up, because I am bloody _exhausted_."

"Oh ew, Dad! I don't need _details_." She shoved him away with a laugh and he took her hand, his smile turning into a serious expression.

"Thank you for caring, Em. Don't ever do it again."

"Well, you're welcome. And don't ever be stupid enough to need my help again, then." She spoke archly and he grinned, before releasing her hand and practically bouncing over to the stairs, leaping up them two at a time.

Emily watched him go with a smile, standing still for just a second while she absorbed the enormity of it all.

It had worked.

Grinning, she walked over to her composite notebook, and opened it to the last page of notes. She laughed out loud, when she saw Gillian's neat handwriting at the bottom of the page.

_Hypothesis: proven._


End file.
